Borrowed Things
by MoistTowelette
Summary: After the collapse of Kurt  and Puck's relationship, Kurt has some things he wants to give back. When he returns them, he also takes the time out to tell Puck why he believes they didn't work out, leading Puck to realize Kurt's got it all wrong. One shot.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Glee. **

**Fair warning: This is super angsty. Like 'teenage girl, sitting in her room, pining over the quarterback she can't have' angsty. And, as an adult male, I hate myself for writing it. **

**Backstory: The only thing you have to keep in mind when reading this is that Kurt and Puck were secretly going out for a couple of months, with absolutely no one knowing, when Puck broke up with Kurt and got with Quinn (presumably because he's uncomfortable with the whole 'being gay' thing). It's been a few months since they broke up, and now Kurt has some things to return to Puck. That's basically all you need to know.**

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><p><strong>Borrowed Things<strong>

He rang the doorbell. While clutching the box to his chest he stood on the front steps of the house, unsure of why he was there in the first place. The house before him seemed so daunting now, when before it had always been a familiar sight, one of comfort and tranquility. Or maybe it was the task at hand that seemed daunting, and the house only reminded him of this. Still, he stood his ground. He didn't know why this hidden reserve of strength decided to make itself known to him now, or why he had resolved to do it on today of all days when he knew Puck had a basketball game later on, but he wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

He heard someone approach the door from the other side. He counted nearly fifteen seconds of hesitation between hearing someone's footsteps stop and the door opening. Puck stood before him, his face expressionless.

"Kurt? What are you doing here?" he asked. To say he was surprised would have been an understatement. He'd thought he'd never see Kurt at his house again. Not to say that he hadn't dreamt about it before, but those dreams always ended in some over exaggerated reconciliation between the two, a reconciliation that usually occurred in the rain or some other clichéd moment and would then end with the two of them having sex in the back of his car. He'd awake from those dreams sweaty and having to change his underwear, and he'd hesitate to go back to sleep, afraid he'd have the same dream again. He glanced around behind Kurt, wondering if anyone had come along with him.

"Umm, I just came to drop some stuff off. Do you mind if I come in?" It was odd to hear his voice sound so steady and unwavering. Not only that, but it was strange to ask permission to enter Puck's house. From the outset of their relationship, Puck had always dragged Kurt in to his house and up to his bedroom.

"Yeah, sure," Puck said, moving aside so Kurt could enter. Kurt was sure not to bump into Puck, afraid of touching him again after so long. "Here, let me help you with that," Puck said as he lifted the box out of Kurt's grasp.

Puck led the way through the foyer into the kitchen, putting the box down on the marble island in the center of the room. "So what's in here, canned food for the needy?" He was trying to be funny, Kurt could tell.

He made the effort to smile and replied, "Oh no, just some things I had lying around that I figured you would want back." He'd wanted to sit down and appear relaxed and calm around him, to show this visit caused him no anxiety or worry, but he wasn't that good an actor. Instead he remained standing on the opposite side of the island to Puck.

"'Back'?" Puck questioned. "Stuff I'd want 'back'?" He looked over to Kurt, the first meaningful look he'd given him since he'd arrived. He forgot to prepare himself for how Kurt would look. It pained him to look into his face; to see the bright, shiny eyes that always looked like they were on the verge of spilling tears down his smooth cheeks. His lips were quivering, and he noticed that now Kurt was biting on the lower one to try and stop the involuntary reaction to being so near to Puck. He couldn't say at that moment that he wanted to hump Kurt into submission, but he did have an overwhelming need to touch Kurt, if only for a second, to remind himself of what he gave up. But he couldn't do that; not anymore. So he turned his attention back to the mysterious package in front of him.

"What sort of stuff?" he asked again. He pulled the box over to him and began to rummage through it, hesitating to pull anything out too fast for fear of shifting the contents and breaking something. He pulled various items out of the box: DVDs and books, shoelaces and a small keychain, carefully setting them before him on the island. With each withdrawal recognition dawned on his face, aware that he had once owned these items but not remembering ever looking for them, always assuming they'd been where he'd left them no matter how long ago it was; but pulling each thing out lit a spark of remembrance in his mind, and with each new item the memories he'd worked so hard to suppress came blazing back. He didn't let his expression betray him, though, and his face held steady. Kurt studied his face, noting the lack of surprise, wondering if he expected to receive any of these things back.

He tried to bury his face in the box, slumping over the edge of the kitchen island, hoping the box held a black hole at the bottom he could fall into so that he could go back and prevent ever giving Kurt any of these things, to save them both the pain and awkwardness of this moment. While he was thinking of going back in time and changing history, he wondered if he would stop ever getting with Kurt. 'Would that help me now?' he wondered. 'Would it make me happier if I'd never known him?' He shoved the question aside, afraid of what he would find by answering it. He added it to the growing pile of unanswerable questions at the back of his mind.

The next thing he grasped he withdrew slowly. It was a shirt. He looked questioningly to Kurt. "It's one of your old workout shirts. Remember, you gave it to me to wear one night when I was cold and all my clothes were in the washer because we had that mud fight in your backyard?" Puck looked back down to the shirt while Kurt continued. "I never told you, but when you gave it to me it wasn't really clean. I didn't say anything at the time because, well…" Kurt trailed off. He was embarrassed about this next part, "…because I liked the smell. It wasn't really a bad smell or anything, but it sort of smelled like your deodorant and your…well, you. I liked it, so I would wear it to sleep some nights so I could always smell you." Kurt blushed and made sure not to look at Puck while he was revealing this secret. "It's okay now, though. I washed it, and I haven't worn it for weeks." He neglected to mention he'd only washed it recently, and before that he'd taken the time out to smell it whenever he'd come across it amongst his clothes. But Puck didn't need to know that.

"I've been looking for this," Puck lied. He was still looking down at the shirt, rubbing it between his fingers, remembering the feel of the fabric on his body as he worked out. He hadn't really looked for it because he did remember giving it to Kurt. He hadn't missed it, but sometimes while he was getting ready to work-out he wondered what Kurt had done with it, if he still kept it or if he'd burn it as some sort of symbolic ending to their relationship. Now he knew that all this time it had been laying on Kurt's body, keeping him warm, reminding him of him. He put the shirt down and continued to rummage through the box.

It was nearly empty. He pulled out a thermos he remembered he filled with chicken soup and gave to Kurt when he was sick, and a heart shaped rock from an afternoon on the beach. Finally, at the bottom, underneath a few movie ticket stubs and Starbucks receipts, was the necklace. Retrieving it from the bottom was difficult, as the chain was so thin and the pendant flat, but he managed to scrape it up with his nails. He cupped it in his hand, turning it over to look at the inscription: 'NP + KH'. He didn't know why he had it engraved. He knew at the time he had no intention of staying with Kurt. Still, now, in the kitchen, nearly two months after they'd been together, he still marveled at how appropriate their initials looked together. He ran his thumb over it, reveling in the rough feel of the deeply etched lines as his thumb passed over them, knowing it wasn't some hallucination that they were together, that this necklace would serve as a reminder of that for all time.

"I know you can't return it because it's engraved and all, but maybe you could pawn it or sell it off to one of those jewelry liquidation places." Kurt thought that of all things, the necklace was probably the hardest thing to part with. He hadn't worn it in months, since the day they broke up in fact, but he believed that by still having it there was always a chance they'd be together again. He tricked himself into believing that the necklace was magic, and as long as it was safely in his care, the link fully clasped and the chain unbroken, the bond between himself and Puck couldn't be severed. Seeing it now in Puck's hands and remembering the desperation he felt some nights in thinking those thoughts made him cringe. How could he have been so pathetic?

Puck was still thumbing the necklace when he looked up into Kurt's eyes. He'd never expected to get this necklace back. Yet here it was, back in his hands, when it should be around Kurt's neck, or at the very least in his possession. "You don't have to do this. You didn't have to give all this stuff back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," Kurt countered, meeting Puck's gaze. It was the first time their eyes met in months, the first time they saw the sheen of the other's irises and the dilation of the other's pupils since they'd been apart. For so long they'd had to look while the other wasn't aware, stealing glances and trying to etch into memory the other's eyes, afraid it would fade in their mind if given sufficient time. It was ironic that both wanted to forget those few weeks they had together, but neither actually made the effort to; they clung to those memories as if they were drowning, afraid that by letting them go they'd sink into the abyss of loneliness.

"Yes, I did," continued Kurt. "It was…most of the stuff belongs to you and you only let me borrow it, and the others were just too painful for me to have around."

Puck had never thought of that. Sure, he had a few trinkets lying around from his and Kurt's time together, but they never caused him any overt pain. He simply avoided them. But to hear that Kurt couldn't avoid them, that they held some sway over his daily life and caused him pain…well, that hadn't been Puck's intention in giving them. "I'm sorry," Puck said. And he meant it. He'd never said that to him, and saying it now was difficult, especially when he saw the look on Kurt's face. "I'm sorry for everything," he whispered. Kurt was on the other side of the marble island, but he could hear him as clear as if they were lying in bed and Puck had just whispered it into his ear, sending shivers up his spine.

Kurt knew it would come to this. He knew giving him back these things would lead to some deep internal conflict for the Puck, and he'd been ready for that. But it wasn't all about Puck. Kurt had given him back his stuff, yes, but that was only an excuse to see him again and tell him what he discovered upon their break up. In truth he had ulterior motives, and he knew if Puck began apologizing he'd never get to the true reason for why he came, and he knew this would be the only chance he'd ever get. He needed this cathartic release more than Puck did, so he cut him off before he got too far.

"No, I'm sorry," Kurt began. Puck looked up, surprised.

"'Sorry'? Why should you be sorry?" he asked, a bemused expression on his face.

He hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you." There. He'd said it. The one thing he'd never been able to admit to himself, even on the darkest nights when he'd lie awake, his face tear stained and his breathing ragged, wondering why Puck had dumped him so unceremoniously. Now that the words had taken shape and escaped his mouth they were alive, expanding and contorting themselves so that they filled the room.

"What?" Puck asked incredulously. "Kurt, I never said – ."

Kurt cut him off. "Please. Could I just say this? It's taking up all my strength to not just run out of here right now. I just need to say this…please?" It all came out in one breath, and he hadn't opened his eyes while speaking, closing them once Puck protested against his previous statement. He opened them now, and looking up he saw Puck nod slightly, acquiescing to his request.

"I'm sorry I wasn't good enough for you," he stated again. "I didn't realize it at the time, but I know it's why you broke up with me and I know that was for the best and everything, but it's taken me these past few weeks to realize it. When we first broke up I was so pathetic. I would lie awake at night and stare at the ceiling and just wonder, 'Why? Why did he leave me?' And I realized it's because you didn't feel the same way about me that I felt about you, and you never would because I'm not good enough."

He spoke faster now, afraid the buzzing silence would envelop him and he'd never regain his already wavering courage. "I don't mean solely based on looks or anything, I think you know that you're a ten and I'm a three…barely. It's more than that. I'm not good enough for you because I can't give you what you want. I remember how you would talk when we were together, you know how sometimes you drone on and on," he chuckled. Puck wasn't laughing, he was listening too attentively. "Anyways, I heard you once and you were talking about the future and how you wanted a big family with lots of kids and a huge house and you wanted the noise to just be deafening because it's just you and your mom and your little sister here, and when they're gone you can't stand the quiet sometimes. So, one night while I was wondering what went wrong I remembered what you said and it just clicked: I can't give you that, so of course you left." At this Kurt's eyes began to water, but he shut them, willing the tears back as he continued.

"I can't give you kids. I can't. Not the way you want, not so that they're truly yours. And I can't give you the two-story house with the picket fence and the big back yard and PTA meetings and bake sales and Cub Scouts and carpools. I just…can't. Our life together would be too difficult for that kind of normalcy. People would probably vandalize our house and our little picket fence would be broken and pulled-up in some places. No other parents would let their kids carpool with us, or let us host Cub Scouts, and no one would buy our cupcakes at the bake sales. We'd be too…different from what a normal family consists of, and no one would ever let us forget that. I mean, I couldn't even hold your hand in public because it's too scary for both of us. You deserve someone who can give you those things. You deserve kids. You deserve the dream house. You deserve a family, _your_ own family." Kurt's voice grew hoarse and threatened to crack, but he went on, afraid to stop now that he'd begun. "You deserve to walk down the street with the person you love, their hand in yours, not caring who looks. You ought to be able to kiss whoever you want in public, and have a big, traditional wedding with a little bride and groom on the top of the cake. And you deserve a million kids." Kurt laughed in spite of himself, "You deserve to have a little Puck, Jr. pitter-pattering around, a little bit of you and a little bit of the girl that you love running through his veins. You deserve the best, Puck. And I know, I just _know _that you can't get that with me. I just didn't realize it until it was too late, when I'd already fallen for you."

A stray tear slid down Kurt's cheek. Puck was staring, clinging to each word like a lifeline. Kurt brushed the tear aside and continued. "I'm no good for you, but Quinn is. She's…great actually. She's sweet and caring and perfect. You deserve her. She can give you everything you've ever wanted and more. She can give you a normal life." At this Kurt chuckled again, knowing 'normal' wasn't in the cards for him.

"I'm not mad at you for cheating, Puck. After all, we weren't officially together, so how could you have cheated, right? Besides, I know you just wanted what I couldn't give you. It took me a while to figure that out, but I did, and now I hope you're happy with Quinn. You two look so right together, and I hope it all works out. I won't bother you again after this, and I won't give you any longing looks at school and I'll try to make sure our paths don't cross if it's at all possible outside of Glee Club. I'm just…I'm so sorry you wasted your time. All that time you could have been building a relationship with Quinn, and you were spending it pitying me." Tears were streaming down Kurt's face, his eyes red and his nose dripping. He used his sweater sleeve to wipe his face, not caring how dirty it made him look.

"I hope you can forgive me," he whispered. He was staring down onto the marble slab on the island, memorizing the swirls and flecks of mineral within, hoping it would take his mind off his crying and his tears would cease falling.

Puck was stunned. He didn't know what he was expecting when he saw Kurt on his stoop that afternoon, but he wasn't expecting that. He was at a loss for words. How could Kurt possibly have blamed himself for what happened? Is this what he's been thinking these past few months? Guilt cast a dark shadow over Puck. He'd let him think it was his fault this whole time. That stupid fantasy he'd shared with Kurt had sent the boy spiraling into a maelstrom of self-doubt. What Puck hadn't mentioned when he'd shared that fantasy was that he dreamed of having a family not with Quinn, or some unknown woman or man, but with _Kurt_. The kids were both of theirs, through adoption or insemination or whatever. They were theirs in that they were raising them together. And the house was theirs, too, with a huge master bedroom and an obscenely large bed that their kids would jump on to wake them up on Saturday mornings and Christmas. And on Kurt's birthday he'd serve him breakfast in bed, and on their anniversary he'd hide a present under his pillow and feign ignorance when Kurt would find it in the morning. These were all things he'd imagined sharing with Kurt; but he never told him, and now Kurt believed he wasn't good enough, when he knew in reality it was the other way around, and he wasn't good enough for Kurt. He had to set Kurt straight, to let him know that he was wrong, that what he'd just admitted couldn't be further from the truth.

He was moving over to Kurt, who was staring down into the marble countertop with unnecessary concentration, still sniffling, a stray tear still spilling down every so often. He was about to take the last few strides to meet him when his mother announced herself from the foyer. He hadn't even heard her pull up in the driveway. He recoiled slightly from Kurt, who was wiping his eyes and breathing in deeply, trying to inhale any loose snot in his nose. He didn't want Puck's mom to see him such a mess.

As she rounded the corner, Miriam Puckerman noticed three things: Kurt was there, after weeks of absence; Puck was standing a few feet away from him, swaying unnaturally on the spot as if he'd just jumped back from fire; and neither boy looked up to meet her gaze as she entered the kitchen, even though she'd announced her presence once inside the house. She knew she'd stumbled onto something significant, but how important it was, or even what it was she had no idea. So she decided to test the waters and see if she could find out anything from the two boys.

"Kurt! It's so nice to see you, sweetie. We've missed you around here," she said. She honestly liked the boy: he was well-behaved, courteous, and just having him in Puck's presence put a smile on her son's face that she hadn't seen since her husband was around. So it was odd when, after weeks of Kurt being over, sometimes everyday of the week, certainly every weekend to spend the night, he'd stopped. She'd questioned Puck about it, but he'd been reticent to discuss it with her and she never pushed, so the matter went unresolved.

"Hi, Mrs. Puckerman," Kurt said, mock-delight coating his words. When he looked up to meet Miriam's face, she couldn't help but notice how red his eyes were. Either the two had been smoking, which she doubted because she could smell no smoke on either of them, or he'd been crying. "It's just been really hectic, you know, senior year and all. I've just been so busy with applications and extra curriculars..."

"Well, you're always welcome here to study with Puck anytime you want. Would you like to stay for dinner? We're having roast chicken." She knew Kurt could never turn down her cooking, and by having him around for dinner she could get more information from him, or at least observe how Puck and Kurt acted around each other and draw some conclusions.

"I really wish I could, Mrs. Puckerman, but I have plans." Kurt was surprised with the ease the lie slid off his tongue, but he didn't question it.

Miriam was disappointed, not only at losing the opportunity to finally quench her desire to find out what went wrong between her son and his friend, but also at losing Kurt's company for dinner. She genuinely liked having Kurt around, and having him over for dinner added conversation to the usual monotony of listening to Puck grunt in response to each question she threw at him. "Maybe some other time, then, okay?"

"Yeah, maybe," Kurt said. Looking at Puck he knew he'd never be back.

He knew Puck's mom saw his red eyes and he wanted to avoid any interrogations if he could, so rather then get caught unprepared without another lie, he decided to leave."I'd better be going." He gathered himself together and turned to Miriam and bid her goodbye.

"Bye, Mrs. Puckerman. Take care," he said.

"Bye, sweetie. Don't be a stranger, now," Miriam responded. She noticed Puck wasn't paying attention, so nudging him slightly she added, "Puck. Aren't you going to say bye to Kurt?"

Puck looked up from his spot as if he hadn't heard a word his mom had said until just now. In truth, he hadn't. He was still mulling over what Kurt had said. He wanted to tell Kurt how wrong he was, how everything Kurt believed wasn't true. But he couldn't do it; not now that his mom was here. Not only that, but he needed more time to pull himself together, to figure out what he wanted to say. He couldn't tell Kurt now. 'One more day,' he thought to himself. 'Just give me one more day and I'll be ready.'

"Bye, Kurt," Puck said. His eyes drilled into Kurt's, willing him to hold on and not lose hope, not yet. With a heavy heart he watched Kurt turn, and almost inaudibly, so neither his mother nor he could hear, say, "Goodbye, Puck."

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><p><strong>AN: So I wrote this a while ago, using original characters I made up, when I found it in one of my old story files. I re-read it and found it's oddly appropriate if I just switched in Kurt and Puck's names for the original character's names and assumed they'd been going out and Puck dumped Kurt because he was uncomfortable being gay. Anyway, as you can see it's a real different style of writing than what I do now; the syntax is mostly what stands out as different to me. And for some reason I find this very juvenile, don't you? Well, I like the idea of it, and I think the tone is good, so I thought I'd post it. Plus it reminds me of my other story 'How Wonderful', and how I could have taken it in this direction, but I know now that I'm not going to have that story be so sentimental. I want it to be realer than that. Well, hope you liked it. **

**Thanks for reading. **


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